Angry Red Lines
by Veilwuarrah
Summary: Arthur, Gwaine and Merlin are captive, and their host isn't too kind. Trying to convince Arthur, he uses torture of his friends to get the prince to change his mind. Merlin wants to use magic, but how can he with Arthur watching his agony? (whump, bromance, whip, sword)
1. Chapter 1

**Something.. something.. "a-little-bit-of-in-between"**

**Need a bit more time to have Chapter 9 ready for "Growing Secrets"**

**Meantime.. something else.. something different.**

**Hope you like, review, enjoy~**

..

They dragged Gwaine back and Merlin only needed to take a glimpse of him to realize he had never seen the knight so beat up. He wanted to rush to attend to his wounds as much as his skills, available recourses and their unfortunate circumstances permitted, but he wasn't let near him.

"Gwaine!".. - But he got caught off, pushed against the wall, cornered and held down by two men twice his size and once his arms were held securely behind his back he got led out the dungeon cell towards, where he presumed Gwaine has been.

He put up a fight, but it was futile and almost went unobserved by the two somber meat towers forcing him to walk along the dirty dim corridor.

He could hear sounds nearing, as if some sort of feast was being held in a chamber nearby.

His heart was racing. Just where are they taking him… _and where is Arthur?_..

But nonetheless a plan started to form in his mind; as much as a trouble it was right now, he tried to focus on its details as he got dragged along the two wooden doors, with the sounds of a feast echoing from behind them.

He would use magic. He had to.

He would use his birth gift and fight back. He would find Arthur, help Gwaine and meet up with the rest of the knights while escaping this damned place. Make them all pay..

_He would…. He would…_ - his heart pounding in his throat as the doors got opened and he got showered into the light that seemed all too sudden and too strong for his eyes that got so used to the dimness of the dungeon cell through these passed few days that he'd been held there.

He got shoved forward and his feet quickly stumbled and he fell face forward to a dirty floor. The crowd laughed. – as it became obvious to him he was in some sort of arena; the stone floor of it littered with dirty hay, stained with dark patches that could only be blood, pits of trash of leftovers tossed in by the excited crowd; or who knows, even parts of previous competitors that were unfortunate enough to be hauled in here and denied the chance to ever get out; and the cheering feast was all around him. He tried to get to his feet, managing only after some tottering to do so.

The lights were blinding him still and couldn't see well.

"Bow before me, your king!" – the dark-haired and bearded man yelled and the crowd laughed and cheered.

"Never!" – he screamed feeling some spit flying along with that word.

"Oh how loyal he is!" – the mocking voice yelled back and the "guests" erupted in laughter.

"Bow boy!" – and someone gripped his hair tilting his head back, and in the same time he felt a kick from the side on his knee and it painfully made the bowing for him as he fell to the ground with the hurting limb beneath him.

He groaned in pain and sat still as the hands held him down. – figuring it's the two brutes from before, that soon left his side.

"Alas! Dear guests! The next number has arrived! Lets see if he entertains us as much as his fellow vermin did!" – and the gathered ones once again cheered and yelled and Merlin tried to look around to see where he was and what was he up against, but then he spotted a man showing up at the other end of the arena, and he barely managed to stagger to his feet; his opponent came charging at him and before he could think or move a sudden swoosh made him lose interest in the crowd and the place and rather jump back as the man in front of him was wielding a blade that unlike the place itself, looked very sharp and looked after; not to mention he still had his hands tied behind his back.

"Go on Brutus!" – he heard the previous "kings'" shouting through the crowd, and he could've sworn he heard another familiar voice shouting his very name but couldn't find the time to go look for him, as the next one of Brutus's attempts got a little too close and he felt his shirt rip and the sharp blade came in a painful contact with his stomach. He jumped back again but was met with the arena wall.

Brutus was showing off his blade to the crowd who cheered on continuously.

_"First blood!"_ – and the gathered ones produced an insanely loud response.

Merlin could spot a shimmer of red on the blade and quickly realized where it had come from; looking down he saw the gap on his newly torn shirt and there was a growing red mark that urged him to do something about all this, and fast.

He looked down trying to gasp for air, then a flash of gold none seen, - _none seen. Because he got so used to hiding his magic.. it felt natural to use it in secret - _and when Brutus charged the next minute, he was surprised to find his opponent no longer had his hands tied. Merlin watched the incoming brute and gripped his wrist just in time. The blade made a small cut on his cheek but it was better then losing all of his head. It became clear to him in no time that Brutus wasn't just twice his size but was well overpowering him as well, so he changed tactics. A flash of gold and the man let go of his blade with a scream – he had to, it was burning his palm like iron out of a blacksmiths forge. - Or so it felt to him.

Merlin picked up the dropped blade without hesitation, and Brutus too didn't stand around wondering at his burnt palm for too long. Someone tossed him a sword and gripping it in his other hand he was charging straight at the skinny young man once again.

Merlin kept defending himself for what seemed like forever. _Has he really got used to not using magic?_ – his mind retorted, as his body struggled to defend himself against the powerful blows.

A flash of gold and the brute started stumbling on his own feet for some reason; another set of blade clashes and the young man escaped with a cut on his shoulder, but was much luckier then Brutus, who had a blade sticking out of him, and after some clumsy steps fell to the ground with a loud thud.

The crowd roared at the loss of their obvious champion and the so called king of this fest was no calmer about it.

Merlin tried to use the little time to look around again, but the two meat towers rushed in once again and a heavy backhand got him rolling on the ground, and the world spinning in front of him.

"You have killed my champion.." – the king echoed. And the young man felt someone grab hold of his dark mane once again and pulled him off the ground, his wrists gripped by strong hands.

A rope got tossed across the large candle holder in the ceiling and Merlin froze at the sight. They were going to hang him…..?

The two brutes dragged him to the rope and all he could do is protest, but then the ropes went around his wrist instead of his neck and he felt somewhat relieved, even if it still didn't promise anything good as he got hoisted towards the ceiling until his feet barley touched the ground.

"You will pay with sweat and blood for that boy.. You will have to entertain us without a fight!" – the man yelled once again followed by the crowds vivid reaction and it sounded all too threatening.

What was he fiddling around for?... – he snapped at himself. He let his magic build up and contemplated meantime where to strike first, but then the king continued.

"..maybe it will show your precious master how willing you are and change his mind to do the same." – and Merlin felt his guts freeze as he looked up next to the dark-haired man and then to his side; and there sat Arthur; tied up; and looking at him. Looking straight at him….

He cant do magic in front of Arthur… Can he? No.. not even in this situation.. Not yet... He can't… then… what is to come of him?...

A glance of desperation from both sides got cut off when someone walked up to Merlin and his attention caught site of the knife the man had. He tried to pull back as much as his roped could let him, cutting into his wrists, but it was quite useless; and the man stepped up to him with a horrible grin on his face and grabbed his shirt.

Merlin then heard ripping sounds and realized his shirt was being cut off of him. And before he knew it, he was standing there bare.

This was not good. _So not good._

The crowd continued to holler and shout and laugh and yell things at him and he felt exposed and shivering and scared. _Very scared_.

"See how stubborn you are now, boy…" - the man with the knife laughed leaning close and grabbing his jaw gave him a little push.

Merlin spat at him. It was a well targeted one, and it earned him a heavy fist in the stomach that left him coughing struggling for air for some time. Then another and another one..

He hasn't eaten in a few days. That didn't help either, and he felt that iron taste in his mouth and inevitable drops that rolled off from the corner of his mouth. He didn't have to see them to know they were of the color red; and tasted of blood.

He was left alone with his agony for a bit, while the noises of his surroundings continued to wave around him.

He could only see in front of him, not knowing what's going on behind him, but he dreaded it cant be anything good.

"Should he?" – the king shouted motioning to something behind him, that Merlin couldn't see, yet the gathered ones shouting and cheering didn't promise anything good. He tried to turn around to see what was going on but then he wished he didn't.. He caught sight from the corner of his eye of one of the brutes, that was standing in the middle of the circle dipping something in a bucket, and when he pulled it out Merlin could see it was a rather rough and long whip.

Merlins eyes shot up at Arthur and the complete dread he saw on his face matched his own.

_No.._ they are trying to convince Arthur of something.. using him. Making him watch what was being done to his servant to change his mind. But with Arthur's watchful eyes he cant use magic…he just cant.. not yet..

So there was nothing to be done - he realized with dread and heard the cracking of the whip behind him as the man tried its hateful swing out in the air..

It got him teary of the fear that he will be feeling that crack on his own exposed back all too soon, but if nothing else, he was determined not to let his king see his pain. So he closed his eyes. It was the least he could do..

And the whip came down. Hard. And merciless. And eyes squeezed tight, and jaw clenched but he couldn't hold back a flinch and a groan of pain from it..

And it didn't stop there; it came slamming down again and again on his hurting skin; ripping it, lining it; the long stinging tongue hatefully licking at the swellings it created before. Merlin felt it go numb, yet he could feel each and every strike and even if he kept his eyes shut or averted from his king, his voice was betraying his determination not to let them know just how much it hurts. And the crowd cheered and laughed, and he could hear Arthur yelling and the world was becoming numb as all his mind focused on the burning pain on his back and sides.

Suddenly all became to a halt and though his sweat and tears he could hear the dark-haired man say something and through the tear-dimmed windows of his sight he could see he was addressing his king.

_"D… don't do it.. ARTHUR!"_ – he roared with the very last of his strength pushing the sounds passed the blood in his throat and saw faces turn towards him, then another hit befell on him, this time a blunt and close one; a fist - he guessed, and his attention went back to the coughs and pain again. Then a sudden splash of cold water over him, he gasped for air as the angry red lines all ached at once on his back as response to the liquid.

He then heard the whip crack again and the roars echoed in his head he feared the torture will continue shortly, but then ..it didn't.

There was commotion amongst the crowd. Something was amiss. Looking up he felt rather then saw that the gathered ones were startled and moving.

The knights of Camelot have come. – he thought to himself with little relief.

Percival, Leon and the others… he helped them escape and now they have returned with the rest of the knights… it will be all right. - He couldn't be sure, but wanted to believe it. Believe it very much.

Everything will be okay.. Arthur will be safe too..

He didn't know how. He just knew.

He heard his name being shouted, but it was very far away on the brink of consciousness. To far for him to reach.

To far to reach him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Re-reading it, seems a bit out of character to me.. ****Works well for some after-midnight-scribbling though. Anyways.. thoughts? ****Your cup of tea?**

**Here's second part.**

..

Arthur saw the old man hurriedly leave with a bucket. He guesses Gaius was going to fetch some fresh water.

He hadn't had the chance to talk to the old man, for he's been in a hurry; understandably. _("How's Merlin?..Gaius! How's Merlin?" - _He didn't get a reply.) The physician was in a rush to tend to everyone. Equally.

Arthur just came from Gwaine's room. The knight just managed to fall asleep, with Gwen agreeing to stay by his bed.

Slowing his pace he reached and stopped at the court physician's chamber, looking at the hallway where the old man had hurried off. He then noticed the door hadn't been closed entirely.. There were no sounds coming from the room, so he pushed the wooden door in slightly.

He was expecting to peek across the room and catch a partial glimpse of his manservant laying on his bed way across in the other room, at the other end of the chambers, but instead he spotted him in the main room, sitting reversed on an armchair, with arms laying across the back of the old furniture, head resting on his skimpy biceps, and his back… oh.. his back facing the door, right where Arthur was standing.

He couldn't take his eyes off of it.

His stomach fell and his throat felt tight and yet he just couldn't turn away from those angry red marks and blue and purple patches and blobs of dark dried blood covering and contrasting that pale, pale skin on that scrawny back.

He took a few steps forward and before he knew it he was standing right behind his manservant.

Images flashed of that horrible view he had to endure – _he? He?! Merlin was the one that endured the most…_ His cries of pain still echoing in his mind clear and distinguished from the loud crowd, as if he could only hear his friends wailing at that moment, when this horrible thing was done to him.

And what did he do?.. the proud coward. He did _nothing_… Anger started to build in him. How could've he let this happen? Merlin is in no shape to fight.. never was.. even though he would never leave his side no matter the danger, he could not defend himself .. _he .. couldn't defend himself this time either… _

He sniffed and only then he realized he had tears running down his cheek; for who knows how long.

It pained him just looking at the gashes and cuts and bruises, oh so many and covering one another on that fragile man's back.

Merlin shifted and Arthur felt a shock of panic wash through him as it dragged his thoughts back to reality from remembering that vicious event.

"Gaius.. please… stop that. I told you it will heal, you know it will. Tears wont help.." – he muttered not lifting his head, voice hoarse and worn out.

Arthur had to plant his palm on his mouth to stop himself uttering any sound and gave himself a few seconds squeezing his eyes shut, feeling himself scream on the inside and his face still silent and damp; before his servant moved again.

"Gaius?" – slightly lifted his head and the prince figured it's now or never; upon spotting a small bucket with water and some cloth he gripped it, dipping it int he cold water and squeezing the access water out of it; and seemingly the sound made Merlin rest his head on his arm again.

Arthur settled where Gaius must've sat before he went after water and looking a bit confused at the soft wet cloth and of what he should do with it, he turned to look at the horrible bruises up close this time. They looked even more horrid. The smell of blood and sweat made him dizzy. It seemed so close and so intense.

He braced himself and leaned forwards with the damp cloth in hand.

As gently as he could, even holding his breath back, slowly touched the bruised surface of Merlin's back. It was inevitable that the young man flinched and drew a quick air, upon contact. Arthur didn't want to wonder whether it was reaction to the cold or the pain – _he didn't need to wonder._

Instead he tried to do as much as he could at this given time; at this given chance, to make amends for the wrong that's been done to his friend. _because of him._

He recalled battle wounds he had and being treated; he knew how it feels. Though not as exaggeratedly as Merlin right now; but he knew the technique and the movement as to how to touch to ease the pain more efficiently and he did that. He did just that.. slowly dabbing and cleaning and cleansing and easing the angry red lines of pain on Merlin's back. Surprising even himself of being capable of such act.

Time seemed to have gotten lost in the process.

Merlin sat there patiently; quietly; sometimes hissing, sometimes flinching but baring the scars and their tending to.

He had no idea who was sitting behind him.

His head was spinning. The old physician gave him some tonic to ease the pain, he suspected the old man overdid the potion a bit in his nervousness – which was understandable. Merlin felt drowsy, and the gentle dabs and cooling strokes on his back soothed him and felt a little more relaxed..

"I couldn't do it Gaius.." – he suddenly muttered to his arm and Arthurs hand stopped midair. His hand balled into a fist in obvious frustration.

"I saw him there and just…. Didn't do anything.. I just stood there… couldn't bring myself to do anything…I wanted to.. but I did… nothing…" – he mumbled further and his voice trailed off to a very low tone, to a deep disappointment; and then there was a sniff and Arthur Pendragon didn't know if he could ever be more stunned and surprised…

_Do..? Do what? You idiot.. What could've you possibly do in such a situation…. –_ Arthur couldn't imagine why his servant would feel disappointed after going through something like that.

The slight shivers and shaking of his manservant's shoulders felt like a punch in the stomach.. _Just to what extent does his sense of serving and protecting his king, his friend go..? _He got beaten up in an unfair fight so he, Arthur would be convinced of something …and now.. he is the one that is disappointed?! _He_ is the one.. sobbing about it?...

It became too much.. Arthur needed air.. it was just too much. He felt if he'd stay he would betray his presence there. He stood up and turned around only to find Gaius standing in the doorway. _Who knows how long he's been standing there.._

The old man looked at him and the prince would've expected him to be angry, to be upset, even start shouting at him for putting his ward through such hell.. - and he wouldn't have blamed him - but he didn't. He just looked at the young man with moist eyes. He was serving his king. As was Merlin. And sometimes serving came with prices.

And even if there was anger in him; upon seeing the princes pained expression it seemed to vanish.

Arthur staggered towards the exit, putting a hand on Gaius's shoulder on the way out..

_"Take care of him.."_ – it needed no words to be understood. – _"Take care of him.. for he is important to me"_

Gaius went back to his ward as the prince left, and took his seat behind him.

"I couldn't tell him.. I couldn't show him.. that I have magic.."

"Don't worry… one day you will.." – he replied to the murmuring warlock.

..

Until that day was to come, Arthur Pendragon already knew something. He knew, he will never look at his manservant in the same light again.


	3. Chapter 3

** This..just happened I suppose. o.O**

**I'm really anxious about the new episode coming out, I guess my fingers were too, so I just typed away and _this_ came out. Didn't plan for a third chapter for this fic, but since it did happen, might as well post and wait for feedback. Hope you like..**

**Enjoy~**

**...**

He knew these stairs, better then anyone. That was the reason he could allow himself to drift off in thoughts and not really watch where he's going – but he knew where he was _heading_.

He's been to Gwaine's chambers. The knight was now conscious, managed to sit up and, with some help, even eat something. He was sustaining a fractured arm, few broken ribs, sprained ankle and several cuts and bruises, quite a few needing stitches, along with a black eye; but all this didn't keep him from smiling at the young man when he stepped in.

"Anything you need?" – the young prince asked after some time they were talking.

"Yea, I could kill for a good tankard of mead from the lower town."

"Right." - Arthur scoffed. – "Not until Gaius says it's alright. It wouldn't mix well with the medicine."

Gwaine frowned looking over at the small table next to his bed, having several small vials set on it and gave off an irked sigh.

"But I'll get you one personally once he says it's okay." – the young man added and smiled; though not as wide as the knight.

He felt so much gratitude towards this man, he couldn't even begin to fully comprehend it. A tankard of mead couldn't possibly cut it, but he knew the knight won't have anything else or anything more. He was glad to see he was in good spirits, even though he looked anything but; and also looking a bit dazed - _from the painkillers_ – Arthur figured.

It wasn't really the knight-training that kept him alive and baring relatively well what had happened to them in the past few days, but more the life conditions he had, before finding a home in Camelot. The prince would wonder at times how could a man live a life of constant journey and taverns and brawls; although, he would admit to himself, when he was alone, that there were times, when he too would wish for a life less organized and with the simplicity of a traveler's one.

"How's Merlin?" – he eventually asked with a serious tone and a bit more quiet.

"Gaius says he will recover." – Arthur said looking at his hands in front of him.

"Have you seen him?" – Gwaine asked a little weary of the answer.

Arthur nodded; a flash of memories coming around of blood and gashes and angry red lines across a scrawny back. He winced.

"He was.. in bad shape, but Gaius says it will heal." - he said swallowing and got up to leave. It suddenly felt uncomfortable to be there.

"You'll just have to get dressed on your own for a while then, princess." – the knight said and watched the young prince scoff.

The young man then smiled at the knight; nodded and left.

.*.

Arthur got away with some bruises on his cheek and a few cuts here and there, he earned at the fight that took place after his knights arrived to rescue them, he was limping a little, but still felt lucky. Gwaine put up an incredible fight and defended himself.. but Merlin, he didn't even have a chance.. He felt his stomach tense.

In a sudden flash he remembered the moment Percival had cut the ropes that held the boy's wrists in a hurtful grip; how limp his bloody body was, like a ragdoll soaked in red; how dead he looked in the arms of Leon, as the knights carefully lowered him onto the ground to check on his injuries.

Arthur felt a shiver run up his spine as he remembered the sight of his abused servant and the dread and worry he felt in that moment.

He was glad he didn't meet any guards along the way as he walked along the corridors.

He stopped at the court physicians' door. Listening for a while he couldn't hear anything so he knocked quietly, then still not getting a reply he pushed the door in. This time he found the main chamber empty, with vials and herbs and mixtures on the table, wraps of bandages tossed in a messy pile in the rush that the elderly physician had left them in; the patient cot empty.

He peered over to the back end of the room and found the door to be slightly open.

Arthur closed the entrance door behind him, then made his way towards it then stopped at the stairs and listened. There was no sound coming from the small room either. He tensed, not sure for a moment what to do then took hold of himself and made those last few steps.

Carefully pushing the door aside he tried as best he could not to cause too much noise.

He paused again after spotting Merlin on his cot.

The gashes weren't visible this time, for they were covered with a bigger piece of folded cloth, but the redness still seeped though it. He was laying on his stomach, one hand drawn up close to his face, and he didn't seem to notice his visitor.

Arthur stepped forward, only to see his servant to be sound asleep.

_Gaius must have given him something._ – he figured. The old man surely didn't want his ward to be in pain. And sleep helped his healing.

Arthur spotted a small chair next to the bed and decided to take a seat. He knew the young man wouldn't wake if he was indeed in a drug induced sleep, but he felt he wanted to be there, even though if anyone would've asked him he probably would've been unable to give an answer as to why.

He looked at the sleeping young man; his forehead still seemed a bit clammy and his hair a bit wet around the temples, but in all he looked peaceful. The white bandage around his wrist didn't strike out as much which made the prince realize just how pale he looked.

His glance inevitably wandered to the young servants back and the cloth covering his back that was dirtied with blood; judging by its color it had been soaked in some greenish tincture before it got on the boy's back. Arthur also spotted red trails along with the greenish ones that ran downwards on the boy's his side and disappeared into the bedding, the redness looking vivid against the pale skin; some wounds were still bleeding it seemed. He could only imagine what it looked like under the compress.

He recalled the night before, when the boy wasn't as peaceful; when fever struck; and exhaustion with pain came down hard on him, and he couldn't even lay down. It has been difficult to calm him, to tend to him; he had heard from Leon. The knight had helped Gaius at that time.

He couldn't imagine.

Instead he turned his gaze back to his face. He was breathing deep and steady, oblivious to the world around him. The prince looked at him long and thinking.

His servant; a bumbling fool; that would risk his life over and over for his master, without a second thought; so fiercely loyal. Arthur felt lucky to have this young mans trust and friendship. He could imagine how his father would disagree and be furious about his feelings, but he felt he didn't care anymore about the teachings that seemed to get proven more and more faulty as days passed. And his father wasn't in a state to lecture him anymore about such things anyway.

The life of the old kings were no doubt something to learn from and look up to; their noble deeds and actions; but not regarding to their servants. The young prince had learned how his subjects can be his friends. He no longer saw them as nameless tools whose sole purpose was to serve and be replaced once no longer capable to do so. He believed that knowledge will help him be a good king, he believed having friends instead of just subjects will help him even more.

He took notice of the figures rushing passed him in the hallway, stopping to bow then rushing to change the sheets; he noticed the stable boys, tending to their duties; making sure the horses were ready for riding out, should he or his knights decide to do so.

And he noticed his manservant as well. –_ Well, rather the lack of him._

He felt his absence, because even at one days' length, his chambers were showing just how much they missed the boy's touch. Piles of messy clothes; unmade bed; food trays left on the table. But the most he missed were the insolent remarks, and the goofy expression of his.

Arthur felt himself smile a little.

They were out of danger now, but the young man sometimes still felt tense and looking around to see if everything's alright; just to make sure it's safe.

All those days they have been captive; all those days they have been starved, beaten and cold; in trying to persuade _him_, and the whole time both Gwaine and Merlin encouraging him not to give up; not to give in, just how they didn't give in. They made him swear he won't give in.

He knew himself and Gwaine could last, he has been worried about Merlin though. But he was surprised how strong he had stayed.

Throughout his ordeal in the arena, not once he looked at Arthur, not once he begged.. But he was in pain and the prince knew very well.. he hated himself for not doing anything, for being so unable to snap out of it. He wanted to make it up to him. He promised himself he will make it up to him; somehow..

He clumsily leaned forward and brushed a few dark threads of hair to the side, then awkwardly caressing the unconscious man's head.

Merlin seemed not to notice.

Arthur felt his eyes sting once again. Withdrawing his hand he again just sat and stared in silence.

He was trying to calm himself, telling himself how everyone was safe now and how they all will get well. That he will deal with his guilt when the time comes, and that time was not now. Now he wanted to focus. He wanted to be there when his serv.. _friend _awakes..

Staring at the young mans face he then remembered something. _Those flashes of gold glimmer.._ He still wasn't sure if it was what he thought it was, or he just didn't see it well.

The thought formed that his manservant, the very clumsy yet loyal boy to be a sorcerer. It was a ridiculous yet threatening thought, but he felt too overwhelmed by the events of these passed days, he refused to let a thought like that surface and eat at him. _It was probably the light, probably the adrenaline of the situation.._

He would wonder about it, sometimes; he would let himself sink into it a bit and small bits and pieces of memories came to him; times when all seemed lost and then Merlin said everything is alright, or everything did turn out to be alright. Times when he lost consciousness and woke to being a hero; times when such incredible luck made branches fall and enemies tumble into swords. And Merlin's been always hiding during battles; always coming out relatively unharmed.

But.. if he was indeed a sorcerer, why didn't he free himself.. He could have just escaped and dealt with his tormentors; but he didn't.

Arthur was confused.

The pale servant didn't really look like a magic user. Not the kind Arthur had grown familiar with.

.*.

The physician stepped in setting his medicine bag down on the table, when he caught sight of the prince in his ward's room. He looked on surprised.

He saw the blonde leaning forward and with a hand he caressed Merlin's head. The old man couldn't help but smile a little. It made him happy to see that. Despite the constant bantering and complaining, he knew through time their destiny had made their bond a very strong one.

He felt angry as a guardian, but seeing the prince at the bedside of his ward slowly made him forget his grudge. After all, it wasn't Arthur's doing, and of what he heard from the young warlock, there was no other way. He knew, Arthur was suffering just as much to see him in such condition.

He slowly walked up to Merlin's room.

Arthur turned to him a bit startled, as if he's been caught trespassing, then straightened his back in his seat and looked at the bed's occupant again.

"I.." – and he had no idea what to say. Truth be told, he didn't even think about what he would say when he made his way to the physician's chamber.

"He will be alright, Sire." – the elderly man said with a reassuring tone. – "He's though the worse part of it." – Gaius continued and walked to the other side of the cot, sitting on the edge of it. Slowly lifted the corner of the compress on Merlin's back and peered under it. The prince couldn't see but he doubted it was a pretty sight.

The old man then leaned forward slightly and held his right hand against Merlin's forehead for a moment, checking for his fever.

"You should leave sire.." – the old man said. - "I will need to tend to his wounds."

"No." – Arthur said bluntly and earned himself a lifted eyebrow from the elderly man. - "I want to help.."

"Help?"

"Yes, anything you need help with."

"I need you to let me do my work and tend to him."

"You can't very well lift him on your own, if you want to bandage him." - Arthur was determined to bring up anything he could think of to prove his point.

"I understand, but Sir Leon was kind enough to offer his help earlier, I will manage."

"No! I'll help. Just tell me what needs to be done."

"Sire.."

"Gaius!"

The physician eyed the young man, a bit unsure, and then he came to understand what the man was feeling so he agreed with a nod.

"Alright."

The idle prince now had something to do and it kept him from sinking into his feelings of uselessness and guilt; the physician had no doubt he was battling with.

"I will need water." – he said and turned to walk out into the main room.

Arthur followed him after a moment hesitation. He was a bit surprised the old man actually let him stay, however he _was _the crown prince and soon-to-be-king after all.

.*.

Gaius slowly lifted the cloth off the boy's back to reveal what was under it. The gashes were a mix of dark red and greenish bubbling goo and puss, and it made Arthurs' stomach jump in repulsion, but apparently the old man has seen such before and enough of it to not even flinch, instead he was focused. His efforts were to remain at the thought that this is a patent needing his help now; and not the boy he cared so much about.

He took a piece of cloth and dipped it into the bowl of water he had prepared, making sure he squeezed the surplus of water out of it, he continued to wipe the greenish ooze off one of the wounds; to Arthur's surprise, it revealed a very clean cut, that wasn't bleeding, or oozing. It was just a large cut. Then the physician proceeded to thread a needle and sew the ragged skin together. Then he moved onto the next greenish spot. Cleaning it; and the next one and the next one; sewing it if it needed; slowly, carefully uncovering the unconscious young man's back, sometimes pressing the cloth to stop the blood that started to seep. Arthur was in charge of the water. He changed the bowl every time Gaius asked him to, handing it back to him with clean water and cloth.

Sometimes his mind would wander to horrid thoughts, other times he would just be focused on what the old man was doing. He would glimpse at Merlin, and note that the potion Gaius gave him probably was very strong, as he not once winced or moved; baring all that was being done without a sound.

"That's the last of them.." – the physician spoke, once he finished washing off the last cut.

He took a jar from the small table next to the bed taking the lid off of it. Arthur couldn't help but notice it had a very unpleasant odor.

"It doesn't smell too good, does it?" – the old man gave off a smile.

The prince shook his head, and continued to look at what he was doing. Gaius recalled that the plant this paste was made out of, were picked by Merlin himself. How ironic, for him to be the one to be used on. Taking a clean piece of cloth he rolled it up and started to gently dab the injuries with the yellowish paste.

Merlin took a sharp breath.

They both looked at the boy in a pause. Then Gaius turned back to applying the mixture on the wounds, while the boy would moan or wince every now and then. The potion was wearing off, and it made the old man hurry a bit. The prince was looking at his manservant, almost waiting for him to open his eyes, but he didn't; would wince and furrow his brows slightly, but remained as he lay.

"Now, I am going to need your help." – the physician said to the king, and Arthur understood what he needed to do.

They slowly turned the unconscious boy to his side, positioning his legs over the edge of the bed, then gently pulled him into a sitting position, and it was Arthur's job to hold him steady while Gaius wrapped layers of layers of bandages around his torso. Merlin's head bobbed every now and then as he was maneuvered, but he was showing more and more signs that he was to wake any minute now. Then it happened.

"Ow.. " – he said with a long ragged sigh.

Gaius stopped.

"Merlin..?"

The reply was a pained moan.

"Are you in pain?"

"yes… _a lot_.." – he hissed again and lifted his hand to rub his eyes, only then coming aware that he wasn't sitting on his own, he was being held to sit. _Probably Leon. _- he thought. He looked at the hand on his upper arm then traced it up to face the one it belonged to, then his eyes widened when he looked at his king.

"Arthur.."

The blonde man nodded. It felt way too awkward to say anything.

"I can sit now.. " – he said and the man slowly let his arms go, still ready to catch him if his statement proved to be untrue, but Merlin did manage to sit, though little wobbly.

"Bare with it a bit Merlin, I will get you something once I finish here." – Gaius said and continues to bandage him.

"I'll get it." – Arthur offered, and after some hesitation the old man told him to look for a red bottle on the table, so the prince left the small room.

"Are you hungry?" - he asked his ward.

"No.. just thirsty." - came a quiet, sleepy reply. - "What's.. that horrible smell?.." – the young warlock lifted his head.

"I'm afraid that will stick around for a while, as it's the paste on your wounds."

The reply to that was again just a groan and Merlin decided it's most comfortable and less energy consuming to just keep his head down. His back felt numb. He had a guess what Gaius used on his wounds, but the headache and occasional stinging feeling was bad enough; he felt the threads if he moved, so he tried to sit still. His arms felt weak and numb as well, his shoulders strength-less.

Arthur returned with the bottle, and how he probably overheard, brought along a cup of water.

"Thanks.." – the boy smiled as he grabbed the mug handed it to him, but his hands were shaking and seemed unable to hold the cup, it felt like it was weighing as much as a whole bucket. Arthur grabbed his hand before it could fall out of his clumsy grip, and helped the boy drink the content of it, then set the cup aside. Merlin didn't look at him, just nodded. He remained quiet after that.

Gaius soon finished bandaging him; gave his ward a mix of the red tonic and with Arthur's help, had him lie down again, this time on his side. The boy mumbled something that could have been a "thank you" and drifted off once again, the old man noting to himself again, to mind the dosage more carefully.

"He should be up and about in a few days." - the physician said closing the small room's door behind him.

"That's good." - Arthur smiled weakly. He felt a bit better, from being let to help.

.*.

"I'll clear this." – he grabbed a mug but his hands were shaking so violently he had to let it fall back onto the table with a clang. He let out a disappointed sigh. It's been three days. Gaius let him walk around, but his hands still felt weak, disobeying his mind. He found he was growing more and more frustrated with this.

"Merlin." – Arthur grabbed his arms, pulling him away from the table slightly. Gaius asked him to take it easy on the boy, and the young man had all intention to not let him work until he was fully recovered. Though the air and walks did him good, it was obvious something else was bothering him; and he was more clumsy then usual. Arthur wondered how to ask him, or rather just find out, because asking bluntly, never really got an answer out of Merlin. But then he answered without the question being posed.

"I feel so useless. Now more then ever.." – he mumbled under his breath.

_"_Well, you are most of the time" – the prince spat out, but now it wasn't the time to banter, and he quickly regretted his words.

"Look at me.." – he said more softly, holding onto the young mans arms, and he was a bit taken aback when he saw his servants eyes moist as he looked up at him.

"You are not useless, Merlin" – he said. "We've all been through a lot these passed days and we all need time to recover. You were very brave, and I'm.. proud. " – if someone would've told him a few years ago that he will be saying those words to the dark haired boy, he was chasing down the market at that time, the person surely would've spent a month in the stocks. Arthur swallowed. - "There's more to you then doing chores. I admit that now." – and it was Merlin's turn to look a bit confused. He furrowed his brows for a second, feeling there is more to his words then just what he heard. He nodded and looked down.

"Listen to me! I mean that!" – Arthur gave him a slight squeeze, still holding on to his arms.

Merlin looked up a bit wide eyed and nodded again.

"Thank you.." – he muttered.

Arthur showed something of a smile.

"I don't want you to do rash things until you are fully recovered. Understood?"

Nod again.

The prince let his servants arms go and looked at him with something that could have well been concern. He patted the boy's head and moved on to gather his scrolls for the meeting. Paper wasn't heavy. He decided to let Merlin carry those for him. The servant grimaced at his attempt to make him feel less useless; but he wore a smile once again.

.*.

_Magic. In _his_ castle.._

_If it was true.._

_He would have to deal with it and root it out… but.._

But the hate that's been fused into his mind ever since he was a child didn't block out a slight curiosity. What if Merlin had magic?.. What if that gold glimmer he saw was really magic, and not just the reflection of candles. And all those small things that had happened and were 'weird' or just 'stroke of luck' had really been, all this time, just Merlin; just magic.

As the mood settled around the castle; Gwaine was let to walk around as well (most of the time just limping to his favorite taverns); Merlin followed Arthur around, the young blonde felt the tension settle around him, but he found himself fighting other thoughts. The sight of that golden glimmer kept coming around in his mind's eye and the more it did the more he wondered.

He glimpsed at the pale servant, now clumsily fiddling with his shirts, unaware of his kings turmoil.

What if.. What if Merlin had magic..

_He lied to you.. – _a little voice said in the back of his mind, sounding very much like his father's voice, that would cast sentence any minute.

_He protected me with his life countless times.._ – he talked back. A little uneasy, just like he would do whenever he had to stand up to his father, but he was sure of his truth.

_He is a sorcerer! _– the voice thundered. - _He must be dealt with! He must be executed!_

_He is my friend.._ – Arthur thought, becoming more and more convinced.

_He could be just pretending.._ – Uther's voice hissed.

_Not after what he's been through.._ – Arthur retorted, and wondered what other sacrifices Merlin had made throughout the years, that he was unaware of. So he shushed his father's paranoid and hateful voice in his mind, for he knew, a new age will require a new mindset, and hate and fear never gave good advises. He knew that all too well, knowing about all those killed, who knows how many innocent lives taken; how he saw his father being consumed by that fear and hatred, how he saw him break, and become a mere shadow of himself. He didn't want to walk down that same path.

He kept thinking, looking for anything that could serve as clues. That time with the dragon lord; Merlin was unusually emotional, almost like.. _mourning.. _Or that other time he stole his breakfast; _(no, Arthur wasn't fat!);_ but he can't have been that hungry, not if he brought it with him to the dungeon where he was dragged off to by that headhunter. And once the monster has been defeated, he again had that deep sadness about him. Arthur wondered why even then, but then gave it a rest. However lately he thought about it again, more then once. It wasn't because of the water, he was sure of that; he had splashed Merlin several other times and the dark haired always took it as a joke. There had to be something in the background that he was unaware of; and sadly he acknowledged that he won't be finding out what that is, not unless Merlin decides to tell him, which was unlikely. However he was certain it had to do with magic.

Maybe.. maybe, magic was just magic. And people made it bad. If indeed Merlin had magic, it never sowed anything malicious, anything hateful. The boy always was by his side, many times pulling him to safety. If indeed magic was to corrupt a person, it wasn't true for Merlin.

And Arthur realized he was curious. All his life magic was hunted, but he never really understood. Perhaps he could now; perhaps he could learn. This could be an opportunity for him. And do it in the safety of a bond called friendship. He was sure Merlin wouldn't hurt him; he was certain he could explore and understand, if Merlin would show him.

"What?" - the boy asked uneasy, and the blonde noticed just then that he's been staring at his servant the whole time.

"Training field awaits, Merlin." - he said and turned to leave his chambers, his manservant reluctantly followed him, lagging behind. 'Training' was the last thing he needed, and he set it in his mind he will damn run away if he had to.

They strutted across the castle, towards to the grassy area, where some knights were already at it; facing each other, or practicing technique against a dummy.

"Are you really going to drag your feet all day?" - Arthur snapped, turning at the young warlock.

"No." - The boy smiled and stepped up to walk aside to him.

"Better." - the blonde said.

..

"Can you smell it, Merlin? That wonderful smell of strength, and the thrill of a fight." - he spoke again as they reached the first tent.

"Just.. don't hit me." - the servant replied, clearly unimpressed.

"Shut up."


End file.
